


All Tied Up

by Sauronix



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexuality, Cock Rings, Cockblocking Oneself, Fluff, Handcuffs, Ignis's Flexibility, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Humor, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 10:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16617599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix/pseuds/Sauronix
Summary: Written for the following kinkmeme prompt:Ignis has a one night stand gone wrong and is left handcuffed to the bed. After trying unsuccessfully to extricate himself, he reluctantly calls his friend Gladio via voice command to get out of it.





	All Tied Up

Ignis’s phone vibrates on the nightstand just as Portia slips the silicone ring snugly around the base of his erection. He considers leaving it—after all, he has a beautiful woman naked in his bed, and for once, work is the furthest thing from his mind—but his duty to his prince overrules his libido, as it does with everything. What if Noct needs him for something?

Portia leans over him, enveloping him in a fragrant curtain of dark hair, and takes his mouth in a kiss, mostly chaste, but with a hint of tongue. When they part, he opens his eyes and begins, "If I may..."

She grins at him wickedly, clearly expecting him to make a suggestion of a lewd nature. "Yeah?"

"Would you be so good as to tell me who sent that message just now?"

The grin falls off her face. She sits back, her brows drawing into a frown, and crosses her arms over her ample chest. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

He bites his lip. "I'm afraid not."

"You spent half of dinner and most of the cab ride back here looking at your phone." She makes a disgusted sound and rises off the bed, snatching her underwear—a lacy red g-string—from the chair next to his dresser. "I have the worst taste in men, I _swear_."

Ignis raises his head off the pillow to look at her, mildly stung by the insinuation that he’s a poor bedmate. "You're not leaving?"

"Uh, yeah, I am," she says as she steps into her underwear and tugs them into place. "I'm not putting out for a guy who's more interested in his phone than fucking me."

"I assure you, I'm not more interested in my—"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

Mournfully, he watches as she covers her breasts with her bra and reaches behind herself to secure the hooks in place. She's lovely even when she's angry, her freckled chest flushed and her full lips pursed. Perhaps he shouldn't have said anything. This is the first time in months he's been sexually active, and from the moment he saw her waiting for him at the bistro, elegant yet seductive in a clingy black dress, he wanted her.

Not as much as he desires Gladio, of course, but for all intents and purposes, his friend is off limits, and he learned long ago not to deny himself physical release despite the yearnings of his heart.

"Please," he says, tugging against the cuffs that bind his wrists to the headboard. "I apologize. Could we start again?"

"Nah. I'm out." She zips herself back into her dress and picks up his phone, waking the screen. "The text is from Gladio, by the way."

"Gladio?" he repeats dumbly.

"Yup." She pats his cheek, giving him a sardonic smile. "Thanks for dinner, handsome. Hope you're nicer to the next girl you take home."

Then she's slipping the strap of her purse over her shoulder and moving toward the door, pausing only to retrieve her heels from the foot of the bed. As he watches her leave, Ignis snaps back to reality—he’s still cuffed to the headboard, the keys out of reach in his drawer, with a ring clamped snugly around his shaft, cutting off his blood flow. 

“Wait!" he calls. "You're not going to leave me here?"

But she's already gone. Dimly, he hears the front door click shut, leaving him bound, helpless, and naked on his bed. 

He lies there for a moment in stunned silence, but then, just as swiftly as Portia departed, his mind begins to race. This isn’t an ideal situation to be trapped in—indeed, it has the potential to become dangerous if lets it go on long enough. The handcuffs are the least of his worries; it’s the ring, rather, that poses the greatest threat. It could have serious medical repercussions if he doesn’t remove it within the hour. 

Grunting, he tugs against his bonds with all his strength. The headboard creaks, but it doesn’t give—hardly a surprise, as it’s hewn from solid Myrlwood oak. He purchased it specifically for its robust qualities. With this strategy, he’ll sooner rub his wrists raw than extricate himself from the cuffs. 

He drops his head back on the pillow, drawing a steadying breath. He must remain calm and _think_. The keys to the handcuffs are in the drawer. He’s flexible enough that he could open it with his toes and withdraw the keys, perhaps even pass them to his hand, but then what? Would he even be able to reach the lock in this position? Or would it be, like his thwarted plans for the evening, another exercise in futility?

_You have to try_ something.

Right. No more dawdling. He twists his body until he’s resting on his left hip, then extends his right leg, hooking his big toe under the handle of the drawer. It isn’t comfortable, but as he bends his leg at the knee, the drawer begins to slide open. Carefully, he slips his foot inside, feeling along the wooden bottom, nudging aside the box of condoms, the flashlight, and the book he knows are in there until he hears the telltale clink of the keys. Triumph rises in him, but he swallows it down, forcing himself to concentrate. This part will be the most difficult.

He manages to grab the keys between his toes. Holding his breath, his heartbeat thundering under his ribs, he slowly lifts them out of the drawer—

—only to drop them on the floor before he can get them to the bed. They fall to the carpet with a light jingling sound.

He lets out an anguished cry and throws his head back on the pillow in defeat. That’s it. He’s trapped here until someone notices he’s missing and comes looking for him, and by then, he could be suffering from dehydration, or worse, priapism. He’s already a little cold—goosebumps have begun to break out on his arms and thighs—and his shaft is starting to ache from the lack of blood flow. His head floods with visions of a visit to the emergency room, and having to explain to an incredulous nurse why he’s lost all sensation in his member.

The phone buzzes again on the nightstand, lighting up to alert him of another text message. Ignis looks at it, realization dawning on him. There is one person he could call, one person who has a key to his apartment, one person who might laugh at him but, ultimately, spare his pride.

But is he prepared to let Gladio see him like this?

_Better than Noct finding you in this state, surely._

“Okay, Eosweb,” he says to the phone. “Call Gladio.”

“Okay,” the phone responds. “Calling Gladio.”

It takes a moment for the call to connect, but when it does, it’s over speakerphone. It rings twice before Gladio answers.

“Hey, Iggy,” he says, his voice warm and congenial, “you could’ve just sent me a text back. I hope I didn’t catch you in the middle of anything.”

Ignis licks his lips, face burning in humiliation. “As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m calling. I’m, ah…rather in a bind.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Ignis says. “Do you still have the key to my apartment?”

“Sure. Got it right here.” He hears a jangle on the other end of the line—Gladio’s keyring. “Why, what’s up?”

Ignis takes a deep breath. Once he asks Gladio to come over, there will be no going back. Gladio will walk in here and find him spread-eagled on the bed, his erection standing up obscenely between his legs, like an excitable pet greeting its master at the door. The thought of it is almost enough to make him falter. “Can you come here? Now?” he manages to say.

“Sure, no problem.” There’s a brief silence before Gladio asks, “Everything okay, Iggy?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ignis says. He closes his eyes and breathes out in a sigh, wishing the earth would open up and swallow him whole. “I should warn you that when you arrive, you’ll find me…well…”

He goes quiet for a moment, until Gladio prompts him with, “You still there?”

“I’m in a state of considerable undress,” Ignis says shortly, the heat in his cheeks spreading to his ears. “An amorous encounter went awry and she left me handcuffed to the headboard.” On the other end of the line, Gladio chuckles, so he adds, “I’ll thank you to be tactful about this, Gladio.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” Gladio says. “Be there in ten.”

The ten minutes it takes Gladio to arrive feel interminable, mostly because his arms and shoulders have grown sore from being held in one position for so long. He shifts on the mattress, trying to alleviate the strain on them, and wonders what Gladio will say when he finds Ignis trussed up like a roasted pig at a solstice feast. The idea of Gladio seeing him this way makes him cringe. 

They’ve seen each other naked, of course. It’s difficult to avoid that when they spend so much time training together at the Citadel gym, but in the dim lighting of the locker room and the steam of the showers, there isn’t much opportunity to make out the details, and most people—Gladio included—have the courtesy to keep their eyes averted. 

Here, Gladio will see everything.

_Everything_.

There’s little time to dwell on it. He tenses up, his stomach plummeting, when he hears the front door open and close. Heavy footsteps approach from the darkness of the hall, and then Gladio appears, filling up the doorway with his height and breadth. When he sees Ignis, his eyes widen, moving from Ignis’s face to take in the rest of him, his scrutiny as palpable as fingertips on Ignis’s skin. Ignis’s cheeks scald with fresh heat. He’s painfully aware of the way his erection throbs in the ring’s suffocating embrace.

Somehow, even though every atom in his body is prickling with mortification, he manages to maintain eye contact when Gladio’s gaze flicks back up to his face. Ignis watches as his lips curl into a smirk, as he folds his arms and leans against the doorframe. 

“Man, you weren’t kidding about the considerable undress thing,” he says.

Ignis huffs in exasperation. “Gladio, please.”

“What the hell did you say to her to make her leave you like this?”

“Nothing!” Ignis draws his knees up a touch, defensively. Gladio only raises his eyebrow, so Ignis amends, “I was on my phone for most of our date, and asked her to tell me who texted once she had me handcuffed.”

Gladio laughs. “Seriously? You were about to get laid and you were more interested in your texts?”

“I thought it might be Noct.”

“Ain’t gonna kill Noct to wait an hour for a reply.”

“Well, consider me chastised,” Ignis says. He looks at Gladio expectantly. “Now, if you don’t mind…?”

Gladio nods and crosses the room in three steps, pausing beside the bed to retrieve the keys from the floor. Ignis feels all the more exposed for his nearness. For the first time, he’s naked with the object of his affection, and all he can think about is how badly he wants to put his clothes back on. Swallowing, he turns his head away as Gladio leans over him to fit the key into the lock. He smells intoxicating, like faded cologne and fresh laundry and his warm, natural musk. The brush of his hands is gentle as he releases Ignis from his bonds. The handcuffs fall away, and Ignis brings his wrists to his chest, massaging his bruised flesh.

“Here.” Gladio retrieves the bathrobe Ignis keeps on the back of his door and pushes it into his hands. “Better cover up.”

“Thank you.”

Ignis drapes it over his lap and discreetly removes the ring, letting it drop harmlessly onto the sheets. The relief is immediate. He sighs, pulling the bathrobe up to cover more of himself. Perhaps he should put it on properly, but he’s still to embarrassed to move, afraid he’ll accidentally give Gladio another eyeful if he times it wrong. 

“Gotta say, I’d never leave you high and dry just ‘cause you wanted to check a text,” Gladio says.

Ignis’s head snaps up. Gladio is standing with his back to Ignis, examining the jars of skin cream he keeps lined up on the dresser. “I beg your pardon?” he says.

“Just sayin’. Guys as hot as you don’t come along every day.” 

“Gladio…” His heart is racing again, but for an altogether different reason this time. Ignis swings his legs over the edge of the bed to plant his feet on the floor. “What are you suggesting?”

“Ain’t it obvious, Iggy?”

Ignis clutches the bathrobe to himself. He hardly knows what to think. One minute Gladio is rescuing him from sexual misadventure, and the next he’s making propositions of his own—if indeed Ignis is reading the situation correctly. “Are you saying you’d like to…?” He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

Gladio chuckles. “Get each other off? I mean, yeah. But I wouldn’t mind taking you out for dinner first, make it official and all that.” He glances over his shoulder, meeting Ignis’s eyes. “If you’re cool with goin’ on a date with me, that is.”

Ignis has to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning like a total fool, but his delight must show on his face, because Gladio starts to laugh. Ignis joins him, and the sound of their shared mirth over the absurdity of the situation dissolves the tension in the room.

“Yes,” Ignis says finally, when he’s capable of speech once again, “I rather think I would enjoy that, Gladio.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, kudos and/or comments are much appreciated.


End file.
